Not Broken At All Chapter 11/?
Summary:
A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken out the window of a house everyone believes is haunted, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.
Rated M
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I'm so sorry for how long this chapter took! It was going to be a certain chapter, then got switched to another, then got switched back and cut in two because it was too damn long... Even the person in the room changed
So anyway, here it is, the first half of the chapter that has affectionately been nicknamed "the one with the fairy orgy"... I'm so sorry.
Thank you thank you thank you thank you always @the-darkdragonfly and @elizabeethan for your help with this feral fic 😘
And thank you everyone for the reblogs, comments and replies that give me so much dopamine ❤️
*****
Part 11
Emma stands tense outside the room she’s just been locked out of, holding her breath as the unfamiliar voice carries over through the door, confused and on edge about what possible threat could have been waiting for Killian inside. There’s a moment before he speaks.
“Tink.” The word leaves him with a sigh of relief and it takes her a moment to place the name. “It’s been a while.”
The fairy scoffs, her voice betraying bitter grudges when she answers. “You could say that.”
“I didn’t mean to -”
“Save it,” Tink interrupts him. “I’m not here to talk about that. I don’t care that you’re back or whether you’re planning to stay.”
Lie, Emma thinks. She knows that tone all too well, defences up, hiding pain with indifference - they can’t hurt you if you don’t care - and realises that this is yet another person Killian left behind, intentionally or not. For a moment she wonders if Tinkerbelle is just another scorned lover, if that’s why he’d locked her out of the room. But Emma heard her carefully constructed detachment. It’s more than that.
“I’m just delivering a message,” she finishes.
“From who?”
“Mab.” A long silence follows the name and Killian’s answer is quiet when it finally comes.
“Wendy said you went back.”
She scoffs again. “Not like I had much of a choice, did I?”
“You could have stayed on the ship -”
“What turned to piracy? Pretended to be an overgrown lost boy all dressed up in leather?” The thinly-veiled insult sounds personal and when Killian doesn’t take the bait she continues harshly. “We both know Pan only likes us side-characters when we’ve got our hero to play sidekick to. A fairy with no magic on her own in the woods? I became target practice real quick.”
“Tink…”
The emotion in her voice hardens. “Like I said, I’m just here on behalf of the Queen.”
“You’re her messenger now?” Emma can tell there’s no malice behind the question, shock maybe, but no mocking. Tink takes it that way regardless.
“They’re my people, Hook,” she spits. “I should never have left them in the first place. They told me you’d get bored - just like Pan did.”
“I didn’t -”
“You’re expected at dawn. Don’t be late - you know she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“Aye.”
“I’m assuming your request has something to do with the blonde in the hall?” Emma freezes, worried that her cover is blown. Clearly Killian hadn’t been as quick as he thought. But Wendy had said they would see through her disguise. He doesn’t answer. “What the hell are you getting us involved in, Hook?”
After a pause he answers carefully. “A change.”
Tink laughs bitterly. “Nothing changes in Neverland. You of all people should know that by now. Two hundred years you tried to get away? And now here you are, back where you started, playing his game.”
“I’m not playing his game,” he bites out. “I’m ending it. Once and for all.”
She snorts in disbelief. “All you’re going to end is your life - and you’ll drag anyone stupid enough to take your side right down along with you. But you don’t really care about that, do you? Not so long as you get your revenge. Same story, different crocodile, isn’t it?”
“I’m sorry I hurt you, Tink,” he says, somehow managing to hold his composure despite the accusations she throws at him. “But it’s different this time.”
“You didn’t hurt me,” she snaps in disgust, offended at the suggestion. “I just know a stupid idea when I hear it. And so does the Queen. She’ll never agree.”
“I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”
Emma doesn’t hear anything else from inside the cabin, the silence drawing out until the sound of the lock sliding free snaps sharply against her ear that’s practically pressed to the wood. The door remains shut, shuffling footsteps, a drawer being opened and the clink of heavy glass coming from the other side. When she pushes it open and steps carefully inside, Killian’s sat back in the armchair, a tumbler in his hand, the bottle left open on his desk.
He looks up when she enters, flashing her a grimacing imitation of a smile and tilting his glass. “Rum?”
She wonders for a moment if she should leave him alone; clearly, he's in need of some wallowing. But he looks particularly self-destructive as he brings his drink to his lips, staring off at the window where she imagines the fairy came and went through, and she thinks better of it. He did promise her a nightcap after all.
There’s no second glass, so Emma picks up the bottle, drinking from it as she hops up and takes its place on the table. The little smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips is more believable this time.
“So that was Tinkerbell, huh?” she asks, taking another sip - because it’s really good rum.
“Aye. Different from your stories, I take it?”
She thinks for a second about the cranky little fairy with a take no prisoners attitude from the movie and shrugs. “Actually they got her pretty spot on I think. Only in the movie she was really tiny, and definitely dressed by a man.” Emma hadn’t seen the stranger the voice belonged to but she somehow assumes those two were artistic liberties.
Killian hums. “Fairies are only tiny when they want to be. Makes them particularly good at sneaking into all sorts of places they have no business being.”
“From what you’ve told me, I don’t know if you can really call your bedroom somewhere she has no business being.” She’s pretty sure he just rolled his eyes at her and it makes her snort. Or maybe that’s the fourth sip of rum she’s now taking. “Is she right?” Emma wonders aloud somberly as she drinks again. “Are we fucked?”
“I’m going to assume that’s some lovely colloquial way of asking if we’re going to fail in your land,” he says, raising a brow. “Because if you’re asking literally I -”
“It is.” She’s the one rolling her eyes now.
“She’s angry with me,” he sighs. “An all too common affliction around here.” Emma doesn’t bother offering any insincere comfort. He messed up and he knows it. He left people behind and now he has to face up to it. “It’s clouding her judgement. Queen Mab hates Pan as much as everyone else on this island. They have the least to lose in trying to defeat him.” She’s not sure she likes the fact that he sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.
“Why’s that?”
“Pan’s afraid of them. He has control over the whole island but their magic is ancient and powerful.”
“So then why don’t they just kill him?”
“I’ve asked myself that same question for centuries.”
“Did you think of asking them?”
He turns to her, narrowing his eyes. “The creatures of Neverland aren’t very forthcoming with their secrets.”
“That’s a pretty evasive way of saying everyone else is evasive.” She smirks at his annoyed glare, taking another swig from the bottle.
“I think perhaps you’ve had enough rum,” Killian suggests, reaching for the bottle as though she’ll hand it over. She only scoffs, helping herself to another drink and he sighs. “Well at least share if you’re planning on finishing the bottle,” he insists, nudging his glass towards her.
She pours him a generous serving and they drink in silence for a while, both reflecting on the day to come tomorrow. Fairies. As weird as the mermaids were, she somehow knows the fairies will be even weirder. And she’s supposed to be some sort of enticement to get them on their side which is still so confusing to her. What exactly about her is considered the enticement?
“What am I supposed to do tomorrow?” He raises a brow, drawn from his thoughts. “I’m bait right? Or like some strange way of sweetening the deal? What am I supposed to do?”
“Nothing. Stay close to me and Wendy. You’ll be more of a distraction, a way to get their guard down, make them more open to listening.”
“That’s really weird. And kind of creepy.”
“You’ve never used your beauty or your wiles to help you get what you want?” he challenges and she recalls all the honey traps she’d set to catch dirtbag skips.
She helps herself to more rum, the dark liquor making her feel warm and relaxed for the first time in days. “So just sit there, shut up, and look pretty?”
He smirks. “Somehow I don’t believe the ability to sit there or shut up are skills that you possess, Swan.” Emma makes a snarky face at him and he chuckles, sliding his now empty glass back towards her. “You're a rarity in this land, love. The Fae are a vain people and they’re desperate to possess the most exquisite and remarkable of everything.” She moves to refill his drink, spilling when he adds. “And you’re certainly that.”
“Shit,” she mutters, wiping at the little puddle of rum.
“If not wholly uncoordinated,” Killian smirks as she hops off the desk to go retrieve the cloth next to his washbasin. Turning back though, all thoughts of the spill are discarded because he’s sitting there, lounging in his chair with his shirt half unbuttoned, looking like he just sauntered off the pages of a pirate romance novel; and she can blame the rum for it later, or just the fact that it’s been a while, or how good it felt to kiss him in the hallway, but she decides to just fuck everything else. She deserves something good after the hellish few days she’s been through.
His smirk fades when she crosses the room back to him, discarding the cloth on the desk and stopping in front of his chair. She only hesitates for a second before climbing into his lap, settling a knee on either side of his hips, fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. Killian’s breath is hot against her lips when he asks, “What are you doing, Swan?” as though he could really be misreading anything she’s doing.
“Using my wiles to get what I want?” she shrugs in answer. “Unless you really did just mean a drink when you offered that nightcap-” His hand is at the back of her neck before she can finish, weaving through her hair and dragging her mouth down to his.
Emma can taste the rum on him, heady and spiced as he draws her into a kiss that’s more intoxicating than the drink, wasting no time in picking up where they left off outside his room. She chalks it up to some inexplicable Neverland magic, the way she reacts to him, the heat that burns through her, the all consuming desire for him, to somehow get closer than the way they’re already pressed together, to taste more of him, her tongue sliding past his lips, fingers reaching for the few buttons he’d bothered to fasten.
Her legs wrap around his hips as his brace slides across her back, standing suddenly from his chair and lifting her onto his desk, knocking the almost empty bottle off and sending it crashing to the floor. He doesn’t seem to care, thumb tracing her jaw as he tilts her head to deepen the kiss, hook drawing along the length of her thigh to her knee.
When she drags her mouth away to try catch her breath, his lips find the line of her neck, his tongue dragging across her skin, the scratch of his stubble making her shiver. She tilts her head back to give him more access, biting back a moan, fully aware of how well sound carries through these walls. His mouth is just beginning its exploration of the low neckline of her shirt when, as if she’d cursed herself just by thinking it, she vaguely hears the door unlatching.
“Hook? Is everything - Oh shit!” Killian pulls himself away - not nearly as quickly as he should really - at the sound of Wendy’s panicked voice. Emma sits frozen, mortified. “I’m sorry. Um, I heard glass break and I just came to see if - I thought maybe Pan - Well, clearly you’re fine so I’ll just… Carry on.”
As if. Face burning, Emma shoves at Killian’s chest until he steps back from her, jumping off the desk and turning, unable to meet the other woman’s eye. “It’s fine. I was just - we were just… I’m going to bed now,” she says, unable to come up with a decent explanation that Wendy would buy. She’s not an idiot. “We’ve got an early morning after all,” she adds, heading out of the room.
“We do?” the girl asks, and Emma only casts a glance back at Killian, who looks more annoyed at being interrupted than anything.
“He can explain,” she answers, hurrying past her. She’s only just shut the door behind her when she hears Wendy’s voice carrying over through it. Clearly all the flustered apologies had been for her benefit, not Killian’s.
“You didn’t waste any time did you?”
“Didn’t we have a conversation about knocking?”
Shutting her eyes and heaving a sigh, feeling like an idiot, she makes her way down the hall to her room, hoping she can wake up having dreamed the whole embarrassing incident.
***
Emma wakes to a knock on her door, a soft “Swan,” called through it and she groans, rolling over and hiding her face under the blanket. She’s pretty sure she just fell asleep and now someone has the nerve to rob her of the few hours she was hoping to get tonight. Her head hurts. Probably from the rum, she scolds herself, and then her stomach tightens in embarrassment and something else as she’s flooded with memories of liquor on her tongue and on Killian’s, of bodies pressed together and fingers tangled in her hair, rings catching and tugging at the strands.
He knocks again. “Swan?”
“Go away,” she grumbles, not ready to face him after she threw herself at him last night… twice. She thinks it almost would have been better if they had slept together. That way at least she could have gotten it out of her system and she wouldn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of unresolved tension and the humiliation of getting caught.
Killian laughs softly. “We have to go. It’ll be dawn soon and there’s a ways to go to the Fae lands.” She groans again. Of course there is. Because every single group on this island apparently decided to set up camp as far away from one another as they could. She cracks an eye open, the room still pitch black. Who demands their guests show up before dawn? Right, fairy queens, that’s who. She hates fairy queens.
Dragging herself out of bed, she shuffles blindly into her boots and across the room, finding the doorknob and cracking it open, squinting against the dim light of the hall. “I’m up,” she sighs, glaring as best she can between her hangover and the light at the amused look on Killian’s face. “Let’s go,” she urges, gesturing for him to lead the way and following groggily behind him.
To his credit, he doesn’t say anything, no comment on her current state or on the events of last night. She’d have expected him to be smug - moreso than usual anyway - or embarrassed - does he get embarrassed? But instead he’s silent as they walk through the hall, not even turning back to throw an innuendo over his shoulder.
For a second she wonders if she did dream up their encounter last night. But the faded redness she can feel still hot on her neck and the slight hangover still stubbornly rattling around in her head and in her stomach tell her it hadn’t been a dream. Either he was over it, or he’d just decided not to be a self-satisfied jerk about it. Or, she thinks - and the thought bothers her more than it should - he just wasn’t as affected by it as she was. Maybe random hookups with quazi-friends aren’t so out of the ordinary for him. He does get his fair share of tail around here. She’s too bothered by the fact that the idea bothers her to even snort at her own pun.
When they reach the deck and find Wendy and Will waiting for them, Emma can’t meet her eyes. Will looks between the three of them with a confused frown, clearly sensing something off. Emma’s just happy that Wendy didn’t tell him. It gives her the courage to glance up at the other woman and she receives a small, tentative smile in return.
“Whatever happens,” Killian tells them all, reassuming his role as Captain, “stick together. Nobody wanders off on their own.”
“Why’re you looking at me, mate?” Will scowls. Emma was wondering the same thing, noting his pointed glance at her.
“Wendy and I haven’t aged in centuries,” he reminds them. “We’re hardly human by their standards anymore. You two on the other hand...”
The younger pirate rolls his eyes. “I’m nearly eighty years old, ain’t I? And it’s not my first time at the Fae court.”
“Just don’t do anything stupid.”
“Oy!”
Killian’s headed off towards the dinghy before the younger pirate can say anymore. Passing by him, Emma shoots Will a playful smirk. “You look pretty good for your age,” she tells him before following the Captain over the side of the ship. Will beams.
They’re deep in the jungle when her guides finally slow their pace. The foliage here is as dense and dark as it was by the mermaids’ caves and the Constant’s walls, and Emma wonders if all the creatures came to some consensus that anyone who wanted to visit would have to find their way blind to their territory, or if it’s just an annoying coincidence.
“We’re here,” Killian tells her. “Remember what I said; stay close and don’t eat or drink anything unless we tell you it’s safe.”
She nods. It’s not like she has much of an appetite anyway, between her nerves and the old rum still sloshing around in her stomach. And she has no intention of finding herself alone in a place where any of the inhabitants would apparently be thrilled to steal a hundred years of her life for fun. “Got it, no drinking the Kool-aid.”
Wendy and Will are pulling apart branches that have formed a dense covering in front of them, light poking through the dark as they do, and Emma cranes her neck to see where it’s coming from. There’s a sound of running water as the light takes on a golden hue as what she assumes is the entrance is revealed. But it’s not frightening like it had been at the lorelei’s cave, no strange echo and singing, only the soft, almost soothing rush of a river nearby. She can already feel herself drawn to it, and it’s not until Killian reaches an arm out across her waist that she realizes she’d begun walking unwittingly towards the entrance.
“Keep your wits about you,” he warns her. “Everything in the Fae Court is designed to make you want to stay; everything is a calculated temptation. Remember that, and don’t give in.”
“Right,” she swallows. Shutting her eyes in an attempt to get herself back under control, she takes a few deep breaths as Will and Wendy clear the rest of the foliage from their path. When she opens her eyes again there’s a gate in front of them, solid gold and decorated with intricate carvings of flowers and animals, and fairies in various states of undress. It’s beautiful, the soft glow that she’d seen before now revealed to be hundreds - thousands - of lanterns beyond the gate, lit against the dark of the predawn hour. She’s never seen anything like it.
“Fuck,” Wendy breathes, breaking her from her enchantement (which may or may not have been an actual enchantement). “It’s Solstice.”
“Solstice?” Emma asks as Killian curses under his breath, walking over to look at the lanterns through the gate. Will looks absolutely thrilled. “What’s Solstice?” she presses.
“A celebration of the shortest night of the year and the return of the sun,” Wendy explains.
“It’s the Fae’s most sacred festival,” Killian adds, rubbing at his temples with thumb and forefinger before pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “How did we not realize it was Solstice?” he asks the others.
“So it’s kind of like Christmas?”
A slow, knowing smile creeps across Will’s face and she doesn’t trust the amused look in his eyes. “Something like that, aye.”
“We have to go, come back another time,” Killian decides but his second frowns at him in disbelief.
“And spurn the Queen’s invitation? To Solstice? If you’re looking to make an enemy, Hook, I know some less terrifying people you could offend.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“Yes. We go in there before the sun starts to rise, participate in the celebration like grateful guests, and gain favour with Her Majesty before we ask her to risk her entire queendom with us.”
“You don’t understand… the ceremony it’s… complicated and-”
“It’s not my first Solstice,” she interrupts and his eyes go wide.
“It’s what?”
“The summer one is better,” Will pipes in, Wendy nodding in agreement with a fond smile. Killian looks horrified and someone had better tell her what the hell this ceremony is that she might be getting involved in.
“We need her help,” Emma reminds him. “Tiger Lily said they wouldn’t help unless we have the fairies on our side. So unless you think we can save Henry and take down Pan with only the lorelei I think we just have to go to the party.” A party shouldn’t hold so much weight, she thinks, wondering when Neverland became high school.
“I agree,” Wendy backs her up and Killian shoots her a disapproving look.
“I’ll go,” he declares. “I’ll speak to the Queen privately and the three of you can stay out of it.”
“What and leave you to have all the fun?” Will argues, sounding very put out. “Not likely.”
“Tink probably already told her about Emma, and we haven’t missed a Solstice in nearly a decade.” Wendy points out. “We can’t risk her thinking she’s been stood up or that we’re hiding something from her - especially something she wants. We all have to go.”
“How bad can it be?” Emma adds, going for encouraging, and wishes she hadn’t when she sees the frown that crosses his face.
“It’s not that bad at all,” Wendy assures her. “It’s actually really fun so long as you’re careful and don’t eat seven walnuts and decide to jump in the river because you think you’re a frog.”
“That was one time!” Will sighs defensively.
“I’m surprised they invited us back.”
“How many times have you gone?”
Will looks like he’s counting while Wendy only quips back “How many times have you?”
“Guys, I can’t see the stars anymore. We’ve got to decide soon,” she urges them.
Killian’s sigh is long-suffering and reluctant. “Fine. But if anything happens to her-” he begins to warn the other captain, but stops himself.
Her frustrated expression softens. “It won’t. We’ll be careful.”
“That doesn’t mean we can’t have fun though, right?” Will ventures. “We were invited to the celebration…”
“Is someone gonna explain this celebration to me, or are you all just gonna keep talking about me like I’m some helpless damsel you all need to watch over?”
With a proud smirk, Wendy reaches for the gate and runs her hand over the seam which trails a golden light in its wake. Emma jumps when two of the little carved fairies on either side suddenly come to life and look at the pirate. “We have an audience with the Queen,” she tells the living gold fairies. “Captain Hook and his crew.” After a moment, the figures each take hold of their side of the gate and, wings fluttering furiously, they pull the doors open.
“I’m going to regret this,” Killian breathes before leading the way through the threshold.
Wendy loops her arm through Emma’s. “The whole day is a really big party. Food and drinks and music and dancing from sunup to sundown. That’s why the summer is better - the days are longer.”
That doesn’t sound so bad minus the frog walnuts, she thinks as they follow the path through the ancient, winding trees. These don’t look like the rest of Neverland’s dense jungle with crowded trees and dark, waxy leaves. No, these are ancient. Willows and oaks with moss covered trunks and branches, leaves pale green and hanging down along the path reflect the soft light from the lanterns that float magically all around them. The whole thing looks like… well, a fairytale.
“Beautiful isn’t it?”
Emma nods, remembering Killian’s warning that everything here was designed to make people want to stay. She can hear music not far off, soft and melodic. “So then what’s the big deal?” she asks.
“Um, well,” Wendy starts as they draw closer to what she imagines is the court, outlines of figures in the dim light, laughter floating over in tune with the strings being played. All dressed in the same, loose fitting tunics and pants or dresses made of gauzy material and ornately patterned fabrics. She can see the gold gleaming off of the stitching from yards away. Disney’s Tinkerbelle was definitely drawn by a dude. “The Fae have a different way of celebrating than most humans.”
Emma frowns, wondering what she means by the vague explanation as she watches the graceful partygoers mingle, drinking from crystal and golden flutes, picking food from trays being carried by more modestly dressed fairies.
A group of couples are dancing over by the musicians, others sat around watching or talking over the melody. It seems like a pretty standard party apart from the fact that they’ve all got wings, fine and delicate looking, that extend the entire length of their person. One fairy’s wings flutter as her partner swings her around, her feet leaving the grass as she spins in mid air.
Another couple have retreated into one another, locked in an embrace that feels a little intimate for the middle of a dance floor, but Emma’s been to clubs before, she’s no stranger to people getting a little carried away in public. What she’s not used to, is the way one of the other fairies, a tall, handsome redhead who’d been watching the pairs dance, sets his drink down, standing to cross the field and join them. She blinks in disbelief as he wraps his arms around the woman and reaches to cup her partner’s cheek so he can kiss him. Emma looks away, face red as the woman trails her lips along the length of the first man’s neck, all three sets of hands wandering, reaching for whatever inch of skin they can touch in the sudden menage-a-trois that seems to have formed.
“Looks like some are getting started early,” Wendy says, as though a random three-way in the middle of the party is nothing out of the ordinary.
“Early?” she gapes, the words registering as she watches another couple flirting boldly by a table covered in cakes and pastries, a touch starting innocently and then quickly growing bolder. “Oh my god.” She stares at Wendy as they approach the crowd. “Is this a sex party?” Suddenly, Killian’s distress over his near-daughter having attended several of these celebrations starts to make more sense.
“It’s not a sex party,” she defends. “It’s a celebration of love and new beginnings, of life and the vitality that fuels their magic.” Emma stares blankly at her. “Okay fine, it’s not just a sex party.”
“That’s exactly what it is,” Killian argues and Emma turns to look at him, her attention having been fixed on the dancers ahead as they walked. She can see more people now, coming from the forest to join the party. All beautiful in their rich clothing and dazzling, excited smiles.
Oh my god, she’s at a fucking fairy orgy. She’d laugh if she wasn’t still so stunned.
“And you guys have all been here before?” For a place that was supposed to be for kids, everyone else in Neverland seems to really get around.
“A handful of times,” he answers shortly and Wendy scoffs under her breath.
“It’s considered quite an honour in their realm to be invited,” Will tells her. Emma doesn’t really have a reply to that.
“So everyone just… all day?”
He snorts. “Basically.”
“There are other things too,” Wendy promises. “Food and drink and dancing. There’s a whole ceremonial aspect to it as well, you know.” Killian rolls his eyes. She thinks maybe there wasn’t much more to it for him. “Their magic comes from dedication, to all things, from worshipping the power in everything around them, the earth, the sky, the food, and the people.”
“Hence all the…” Emma gestures vaguely at the couples, “worshipping.” She doesn’t really understand, but this isn’t her world and people throw these kinds of parties for way less where she’s from.
“It feeds their magic.”
“And is everyone expected to… participate?” she asks warily, trying to sound as casual as possible.
Wendy’s casual ‘yes’ and Killian’s emphatic ‘no’ and spoken at the same time. Killian glares at Wendy before turning to Emma. “In the celebration, yes. But one can celebrate however they like.” She holds back a snarky question about how he’s chosen to celebrate in the past as a fairy notices them. She’s gorgeous - of course she is, Emma wants to roll her eyes - tanned skin and short black hair, wings fluttering demurely as she hops up and glides across the field to land in front of them.
“Hook,” she greets with a coy smile. Killian’s face looks torn between the natural urge to smoulder and a determination to keep his sombre mood.
“Thistle.”
“Where have you been?” she accuses, pouting prettily. “We’ve missed you,” she tells him, hand tracing delicately along the chain at his neck before wrapping around the charms.
We? Emma wants to ask, but before she can, two more fairies saunter over, a tall, curvy blonde and an equally stunning redhead. The whole trifecta, she rolls her eyes. The two Fae women join the first, draping themselves shamelessly around his arms, fingers playing at his hair, the lapels of his coat, the curve of his ears which Emma notes are bright red. Wendy looks like she’s going to be sick. It’s a bit much, really. She gets it, he’s fucked a lot of fairies.
“Solstice hasn’t been the same without you, you know,” The blonde tells him, catching her suggestive smirk between her teeth. “Why didn’t you come back?”
“I… had some business to attend to in the Land Without Magic.”
“For ten years?” the little brunette demands. But before he can answer, defend the fact that time continued here without him, the redhead traces a bejewelled finger along the dimple in his chin, smiling wickedly.
“It’s alright, Thistle. He can make it up to us this year,” she assures them before her lips find the underside of his jaw.
“Oh for fucks sake,” Wendy curses under her breath. “I don’t know if I can handle a Solstice with him,” she tells Will.
Killian clears his throat, eyes casting quickly and uncomfortably to Emma’s as he extracts both his arms from the fairies’ grips. “I - uh, that is I…” She doesn't think she’s ever seen him speechless before. Though that may have something to do with the blonde’s hand wandering dangerously close to his belt. Emma turns away, not in the mood to watch him get it on with Charlie’s Angels, when a voice calls his name from the center of the party.
“Killian Jones,” the woman declares, walking over with arms spread wide. The fairies who’d been fawning a moment ago quickly detach themselves from him, pulling back to stand behind Killian, bowing low. The imposing woman beams at him, stunning, dark skinned with black hair curling tightly down to her waist, flowers and golden beads woven intricately throughout. “The infamous Captain Hook returns.” The fairy takes his face in her hands, pressing a kiss to each of his cheeks. “It’s been too long.”
Killian offers a small bow, seemingly unable to fight his smile. “Your Majesty.”
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@kmomof4 @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @goforlaunchcee @undercaffinatednightmare @jennjenn615 @dramioneswan @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @batana54 @lfh1226-linda @csalltheway @xsajx @xarandomdreamx @onceratheart18 @ownedbycaptainswan @teamhook @pirateprincessofpizza @lostintheskyfaraway @zaharadessert @thejollyroger-writer @ultraluckycatnd @justanother-unluckysoul @spartanguard @jonesfandomfanatic @deckerstarblanche @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @wefoundloveunderthelight @sailtoafarawayland @tiganasummertree @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @stahlop @superchocovian @snowbellewells @xellewoods @sals86 @karlyfr13s @ouatpost @skairipakomtrikru @lonelyspectator12 @anmylica @alexa-fangirl-forever @inspiredbystardust @marcella2727 @paradiselady19 @koryandr
